


your book will end just fine (but i'm a different story)

by demistories



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 10:42:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4432520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demistories/pseuds/demistories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But it was like three in the fucking morning and Grantaire was too tired to lie to himself about finishing the dumb assignment, let alone mess with Enjolras.<br/><br/><i>Tumblr Prompt: 40. “Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	your book will end just fine (but i'm a different story)

**Author's Note:**

> ~~Who needs betas?~~
> 
>  
> 
> I do. I need a beta. I wrote this at like 1 am over a month ago, and had tense problems the whole way through, which was super weird, because that's not usually a problem for me. And then I edited it in the morning. And then a few weeks later. And then today. And so yeah, if I messed up the tense anywhere (or messed up anything honestly), please let me know!  
> Also, this was my first time writing for les mis fanfic. If it seems like I don't know what I'm doing, it's because I don't. We've all gotta start somewhere, and if I start with crappy, 1 am fanfiction riddled with mistakes, so be it. 
> 
>  
> 
> _Title from Judging Books By Their Covers by Keaton Henson_

Anyone who knew Grantaire could tell you that he was a master bullshitter. Master artist? Never. Dancer? Not in your dreams. Boxer? Is that even a thing? The one and only thing that Grantaire had ever mastered, was screwing with people. Specifically one person.

He’d never admit it outloud, but the first time he’d seen Enjolras his heart pretty much stopped beating for a full minute. It was nearly a medical emergency, Joly would’ve panicked.

But also, christ, someone had to do something to make Enjolras less perfect. The mouth, the hair, the unfair jawline, the disapproving glare, he had it all. He opened his mouth and the voice of a goddamn _angel_ left it. Talk about unfair to the rest of humanity. How were they supposed to compete? How were they not supposed to fall in love with him?

Luckily some of the effect wore off when Enjolras turned out to be a stone freaking statue. A statue that could not take a joke, by the way. Grantaire was contentious by nature, but Enjolras definitely made it worse. The first time he wasn’t actually trying to annoy him, but seeing Enjolras’ face flush and his attention turn to only Grantaire? Sold, sealed, and delivered. Grantaire’s goal was clear: irritate Enjolras whenever possible.

But it was like three in the fucking morning and Grantaire was too tired to lie to himself about finishing the dumb assignment, let alone mess with Enjolras. Initially, everyone getting together and working on their projects seemed like a good idea. It sounded like more fun and maybe more productive, although that was just the lie everyone was telling themselves. But in the end, they had all accomplished less than they wanted, except for possibly Combeferre and Enjolras. And they had the unfair advantage of the being the goddamn insomniac dream team.

Random partnerings his ass. The teacher clearly had favorites in Enjolras and Combeferre's class. They were also in an accelerated version of the course. Grantaire considered himself lucky to be paired with Jehan, who was only in dishonorable english because their schedule was fucked up, although Jehan had fallen asleep about two hours ago.

Actually, most people had fallen asleep at this point. It was just the dream team still going strong. Everyone else was piled up and sleeping somewhat soundly. As soundly as you can on the floor of a basement. The only reason Grantaire was awake was because he was blasting music in his ears and would probably be deaf in ten years.

And then Combeferre was losing steam. He was resting his temple on his hand and his eyes were blinking slower. When he fell asleep, Enjolras caught Combeferre's head as it slipped from his hand and lowered it to the floor.

Grantaire was pretty sure Enjolras didn’t even realize he was awake until he met his eyes. They stared at each other awkwardly for a second, and Grantaire was about to close his eyes and just pretend to sleep when Enjolras motioned to the stairs.

It took him a second to realize that yes, this was actually real life and no, he was not dreaming. The obnoxiously loud music in his ears proved it.

Enjolras was standing by the stove when Grantaire reached the kitchen.

“Shit,” he groaned, covering his eyes. Fluorescent lights were not his friends.

“Coco?” Enjolras offered as Grantaire’s vision adjusted to the harsh bright lights. They actually made his head hurt.

He rubbed his eyes. “Nothing stronger?”

“I’m not giving you alcohol,” Enjolras joked. Which just didn’t make any sense. Was Grantaire sure he wasn’t dreaming?

“I meant, like, coffee or something,” Grantaire said as he slumped against the counter. “But alcohol would work too.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Right, because coffee at almost three am is a good idea.”

“Fuck dude, who put you in charge of when I have caffeine? For all you know it could knock me out cold.”

Enjolras didn’t look away from the milk he was pouring into a pan. “I know exactly what you’re like when you have too much caffeine.” The corner of his mouth lifted in what could be described as a smile. If it wasn’t Enjolras. “Or maybe you don’t remember finals last semester. You did drink a lot of coffee.”

“Also blew my money on Starbucks,” Grantaire muttered, looking away. “Should’ve just drank whatever crappy instant stuff I could buy at the store for two bucks.”

The sound that Enjolras made was definitely a laugh. But it also definitely wasn’t. Enjolras didn’t laugh at Grantaire. He didn’t laugh when Grantaire was trying to be funny, and he definitely didn’t laugh when Grantaire wasn’t trying to be funny. The whole thing, with them having a normal conversation and Enjolras making them hot chocolate, was so domestic. Almost scarily so.

“Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?”

Grantaire was’t entirely sure he gave those words permission to leave his brain, let alone his mouth, but he’d never had a real filter, and it was also three in the morning.

“It was a laugh. And is that so unbelievable?” Enjolras asked, raising his eyebrows. “I’m not a robot.”

“Maybe you are and you just have buggy programming,” Grantaire argued.

“The bug is probably something to do with my sleep schedule because it is fucked up beyond repair.”

“That’s not a bug, that’s just high school.”

Enjolras smiled at him again and suddenly Grantaire was wondering if _he_ was the robot, because his brain was definitely malfunctioning. What the fuck was going on.

“Okay back to my initial argument,” he said. Anything to get Enjolras to stop looking at him like that, because if he didn’t, Grantaire’s brain might actually break. “Coffee.”

“No.”

“Decaf.”

“And how is that stronger than coco?”

Enjolras had a point there. 

“…the taste?” Grantaire offered.

Enjolras snorted. “You’d rather the gross taste of coffee to sugar and chocolate?”

“Okay, you know what, you’ve got me there. Give me your shitty, sugary hot chocolate.”

“Maybe I don’t want to anymore.” Enjolras pulled the pan closer to him.

And now this was verging weirdly and rapidly into flirting territory. Or maybe Grantaire was just insanely tired. He assumed the latter. “Man this assignment is kicking our _asses_.”

Enjolras turned off the stove and poured the coco into mugs. “I’d say you have the easier version, but I don’t think you actually do.” He handed the mug to Grantaire. And yup, their fingers touched like they were in a goddamn movie, and Grantaire’s stomach decided it was time to see if it could do a backflip.

“I’m pretty sure that the teach hates the dishonorable kids. It’s not like he wanted to teach the idiots.”

If Grantaire wanted Enjolras to smile at something, it would’ve been that. But the way his lips were pursed and his eyebrows had furrowed, he could tell that wasn’t going to happen.

“You’re not an idiot,” Enjolras said after a moment. “None of you are. Just because you aren’t as good at english doesn’t mean―”

“I know,” Grantaire muttered into his coco. “Sure feels like it around some of you though.”

“We don’t mean to…” Enjolras trailed off as quickly as he started. They didn’t mean to, but they were all naturally smarter, and it wasn’t like they could hide it. Facts were literally part of who Enjolras was. Being friends with them was being surrounded by people leaps and bounds ahead of him intellectually. And mentally too, if he was being honest.

Standing in a kitchen in silence at three am while drinking coco might have been more uncomfortable than Enjolras smiling at him. At least that made him feel something more than weird and slightly anxious.

“Your shitty coco isn’t as shitty as I thought it’d be,” he said to shatter the silence.

Enjolras gave him a small smile, and now that Grantaire had seen a real one directed at him, he knew it was forced. “Yeah well, how else do you think I get through all nighters? Sugar keeps me up more than caffeine.”

Grantaire lowered his mug. “And you were lecturing _me_ on wanting to be awake?”

Enjolras shrugged innocently. “I saw how much coffee you had today. You reach a point where it stops doing much more than make you really jittery. And for you it’s about six cups.” He took a sip of coco. “You’ve built your tolerance since finals.”

Grantaire put his mug down on the counter so he didn’t drop it or something. Seeing this entire conversation, it was a definite possibility. “Wait what?”

“It wasn’t hard to notice,” Enjolras mumbled. His ears were turning pink.

“Wasn’t hard? _I_ didn’t notice.”

Enjolras wouldn’t even look him in the eye anymore. “I mean, maybe it wasn’t so obvious to you because you’re used to it, but honestly, it was kind of worrying. And you weren’t taking care of yourself, so―”

“You were worried about me?” Grantaire interrupted. Part of him wasn’t sure why he was so surprised. Enjolras held his friends in such a high regard, it was kind of ridiculous. He’d trust them with his life, and took care of theirs with his.

Enjolras blinked a little too quickly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

_I’m not your friend_ , rested on the tip of Grantaire’s tongue. “I never gave you any reason to care about me.” That actually might've been worse that what he didn’t say.

“So?” There was a slight snap in Enjolras’ voice, but it was more defensive than the angry tone that Grantaire was used to.

“Shit, I uh…” He didn’t have a plan. Or words. Or… Actually he had no grasp on the situation whatsoever.

“I can worry about whoever I want―”

“I never said you couldn’t.”

“―care about whoever―”

“No, dude, I get it!”

“―love whoev―” That time, Enjolras cut himself off.

Grantaire was really really glad he put his mug down. How Enjolras was still holding onto his was a mystery. Until Enjolras looked away, both of their faces burning, and Grantaire glanced down to see Enjolras’ hands gripping his mug so tight that his knuckles were going white.

Declarations of love at three am were definitely not what he signed up for when he showed up to work on an english project.

He was pretty sure he’d lost control of his body when he reached out and pried the mug from Enjolras’ death grip. He was doing it so Enjolras didn’t shatter it with his super strength and not so he could touch Enjolras’ hands again, obviously.

There was literally no way for Grantaire to bullshit his way out of this. And it wasn’t like he could just say “Hey it’s fine, man! I’ve been hopelessly in love with you since we met and I’ve just been an asshole because that’s my default when I don’t know what to do!” It was the truth, but it wasn’t going to help the situation.

He decided to go with the ever popular: “I uh…” Genius. Someone move him up to honorable english.

Enjolras had stayed the bright red he turned when he blurted it out. He still wasn’t even looking in Grantaire’s general direction. “Sorry, I…”

“You’re tired,” Grantaire suggested. “You don’t mean it, I get it. No worries, dude. Already forgotten.”

Enjolras’ eyebrows furrowed again. “But…” He kept his eyes on the ground. “What if I do mean it?”

“You’re shitting me, because that’s fucking impossible,” Grantaire said before he could stop himself. But hey, that was only fair.

“What?” Enjolras looked up at him, and the confusion in his eyes was so real that Grantaire was confused on why he questioned anything but also why he didn’t question it more. Talk about making the confusion more confusing. “Why is it so impossible that I―” He gulped.

“Because! I’m… I’m me!” Grantaire protested. “And you’re you!”

“That makes total sense,” Enjolras deadpanned. Although Grantaire could see right through his facade. Enjolras had some cracks in his armor, and Grantaire had to step carefully.

“I’m irresponsible and immature and cynical and pathetic. And then you’re all passion and fire and caring and hope for humanity. We are literally opposites here! You’re the goddamn sun and I’m like fucking Pluto or something.” He wasn’t entirely sure that any of that made sense but Enjolras would just have to give him a break, seeing the time of day and the circumstances.

“Pluto?”

Grantaire nodded. “Fucking Pluto. Such a shitty planet that it’s no longer a planet.”

“How can you think that?” Enjolras asked in disbelief. “How is that all you see in yourself?”

“Not all of us are Cosette,” Grantaire said. “Not all of us can find the good in everyone.”

“Yourself isn’t everyone. How can you only think negative things about yourself?”

“A self esteem lower than absolute zero.”

Enjolras shook his head, and his red had faded to a pink. “You’re artistic and creative. You’re protective of your friends. You’re great at telling stories and you’re funny and you’re nothing if you’re not dedicated.”

Grantaire scoffed.

“Okay, maybe it’s selective dedication, but you’re dedicated to your art projects and your music and irritating me to no end―”

“Because I’m an asshole. And how can you say I’m funny? You’ve never laughed at anything I've said.”

“Yeah well.” Enjolras looked away again. “It’s kind of hard to um…hide… If I laughed whenever you…”

Grantaire got it. It was like trying not to smile when Enjolras got excited or when he relaxed around his friends and lowered his walls that he put up during school. Or just whenever Grantaire was in Enjolras’ presence really. “So you really…?”

Enjolras cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

Grantaire decided to actually do something before his brain quit. He stepped forward. They were only inches away from each other and his brain had definitely started to shut down.

“And it’s okay if I…” He let his voice trail off as he lowered his head, his nose way closer to Enjolras’ than he ever would’ve dreamed. Dreams are dreams, but even in them there’s some line of reality.

He barely registered Enjolras’, “Yes,” before their lips were touching. And Grantaire had stopped wondering if it was a dream, because it definitely wasn’t, and was wondering if he was dead. But that would mean he was in heaven, and he couldn’t think of anything he’d done to get him through the pearly gates.

But then his mind was focused on Enjolras. His lips, which were soft, and his nose, which bumped Grantaire’s. His hands were holding Grantaire’s shirt, pulling him down because of the height difference.

They pulled away to breathe. Grantaire was glad that Enjolras hadn’t let go of his shirt. He had to bend over a little awkwardly, but their faces were still close. He couldn’t really believe that just moments ago he had thought that prying Enjolras’ hands off of a cup had been a jump in physical contact.

“You know,” Enjolras said, a smile playing at the corner of his lips, “you could’ve just said you liked me back.”

Grantaire laughed softly. “I think you used the word love, and you have to admit that was way more fun.”

“The coco’s getting cold,” Enjolras said. The teasing in his voice made Grantaire smirk.

“Oops?” he asked. “Good thing that the microwave was invented, right? So if it sits there for a few more minutes…”

Enjolras leaned up on his toes, his mouth just a breath from Grantaire’s. “I see your point,” he murmured.

Grantaire was pretty sure that Enjolras tasted sweeter than the coco. It was the cheesiest thing to think, but he figured he was allowed some disgusting romantic bullshit. It was a hell of a lot better than his regular bullshit.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey I'm on [tumblr](wearetheseven.tumblr.com) if you want to say hi! - <3


End file.
